Hero Worship
by AlwaysSharp
Summary: A series of snippets over the course of time showing how Justin sees Brian as a hero, a God.


---

God has to be the most popular motherfucker on the planet, but Justin Taylor knows where he lives.

He also knows what he smokes, what he drives, how he fucks, and the answer to the eternal question: top or bottom?

Not that it was ever a question, really.

"I just saw the face of God," Justin breathes in Daphne's ear, bounding up the stairs to the school. He looks freshly fucked. Duh, because he is freshly fucked.

Daphne laughs. Her hot, gay, not-yet-out-of-the-closet best friend can get on her nerves sometimes, but this is not one of those times. She glances backwards, hoping to spot the car that brought Justin to school, but it's already gone.

Justin continues to mutter about God.

And so begins Justin Taylor's hero worship fetish with the thoroughly nonreligious, self-proclaimed "sinner" Brian Kinney.

---

"You saved his foreskin," Justin deadpans.

Brian takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey. After wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he elaborates, "I was just doing what was best for my… my… Gus."

"Your son," Justin tells him helpfully.

The older man nods solemnly. "Yeah. That. How's he s'posed to take after his daddy if he's missing part of his dick?"

Justin laughs. "Now here's a dad who knows his priorities."

"Here's to fathers," Brian declares loudly, raising the whiskey bottle in the air. He takes another long sip from the bottle, then hands it unceremoniously to Justin. "Finish it," he grunts.

Justin sets the bottle on the floor and pulls his shirt over his head. "No. I mean it. You're a great dad and a great person."

"He's only a week old, for Christ's sake, and I've already pissed off his mommies by refusing to pay for – "

The teenager slams their lips together.

---

Babylon. The lights and music wrap Justin in a whirl of bliss. Who says you need drugs to have a good time? The only drug he's on is adrenaline. That and arousal.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Justin swivels around to meet the eyes of his favorite wet dream. "Hey, Brian."

"Why are you stalking me?" demands his not-quite-dance-partner.

It isn't hard to put on doe eyes and tilt his head innocently. "Stalking you?" Justin repeats. "Don't you think you're giving yourself too much credit, Mr. Kinney? Perhaps I've just fallen for your _fabulous _lifestyle."

"I want you to leave," Brian growls.

Justin steps backward, almost tripping over some redhead who looks like he fell asleep in a tanning parlor. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Ah, ever the rebellious teenager," mocks Brian. "I know what you're doing. You and your little girlfriend tracked me here because you want another award-winning fuck. Well, guess what, kiddo? It's not working. I don't do repeats and I don't do love."

Smug and defiant as always, Justin decides that he is never going to leave this man alone.

---

"He _still _doesn't want you?" Daphne demands.

Justin rolls his eyes. "What can I say? He's either playing hard-to-get, or – ahem – _hard_-to-get."

Daphne wrinkles her nose. "You never used to make sex jokes before you came out."

"Oh, I did," Justin assures her. "I just never said them out loud. Why? Do you mind them?"

She considers. "Well… no."

Justin laughs. "Just like a girl to say the opposite of what she means," he teases.

"And just like a guy to rub it in, though I don't hold it against you and your... species," Daphne retorts, sticking out her tongue.

"Emmett says – "

"'Don't stick your tongue out unless you're prepared to use it,'" Daphne interrupts. "I know. You've told me. How about Brian? Does he say anything interesting?"

Justin snickers. "Yeah. 'Suck it.' That's about as articulate as he gets."

"But…" Daphne trails off, letting Justin finish.

In his teenagerly fashion to assume and persist and blurt out his tiniest suspicions, Justin sighs dramatically. "But I love him."

---

"Your dad hates you."

"Yeah."

Brian pauses. "I think he has the right idea."

They both wince at the comment, Brian because maybe he regrets it just the tiniest bit, and Justin because it was an assholish thing to say and it hurts. Not that he would admit it, of course. "Do you want me to go?" Justin asks in a tiny voice, because if there's one thing hot seventeen-year-olds learn in school, it's how to manipulate people.

It's not fair to do this to Brian, because his tricks probably pull this shit on him all the time. But Justin loves knowing that even though he only met Brian a few months ago or whateverthefuck, he can manipulate him.

Brian sighs.

Justin freezes, standing in the middle of the kitchen with both eyes fixed firmly on Brian.

A beat.

Brian pats the bed beside him. Justin's clothes are off before he makes it there.

---

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Looks like you're doing me one at the moment, Sunshine."

Justin props himself up on his elbows and ceases licking the organ in front of him. "You're going to have to wait."

"I could go to Babylon," Brian threatens, but those threats don't work anymore and he fucking knows it.

Justin rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Listen. I have my prom coming up, and… um… I made a bet with Daphne."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. See, she said I listen to every fucking thing you say, like proms are for breeders and shit. I told her that's not true, that you even told me to go to the fucking prom, but she won't listen. So… uh…"

"This is the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever heard," Brian interjects. "Get back to the blowjob, little boy, it's all you're good for." His tone is playful, so Justin knows enough to roll his eyes and ignore him.

"No, _listen_," he insists. "Daphne said I don't have the balls to go to the prom, and – "

Once again unable to hold his tongue (in more ways than one), Brian asks, "And you want me to buy you a tux."

"I want you to go with me," Justin corrects him.

There is the sound of a lighter flickering, and smoke fills the air. Brian coolly takes a drag on his cigarette. "No fucking way."

---

"So he said he won't come to the prom with me," Justin concludes sorrowfully, binge-eating chocolates out of a box like a girl who has just been denied a prom date. The resemblance is remarkable.

Daphne looks pained. "You tried promising him a post-prom fuck at a fancy hotel, right?"

"Yeah."

"And told him there'll be a room full of hot eighteen-year-old guys for him to seduce?"

Justin winces. "He said he's not a child molester."

"Of course he's not," Daphne replies offhandedly, still cheerful. "So, maybe you could try bribing him with some sexual endeavor you've never had before. Maybe."

Justin sighs. "He won't come," he announces. "He won't do anything he doesn't want to. If he came to the prom, I'd probably pass out in a coma or something."

Daphne whistles. "That anti-social, huh?"

"Not anti-social, just selective, moody, and cocky as hell. Kind of like you on your period."

Choosing to ignore that last charming remark, Daphne protests, "But why not _try_? I mean, picture the looks on everyone's faces when you dance with him. He loves dancing and he loves guys and he loves _you_, so why the fuck won't he go?"

Justin is firm on his response. "Because he's scared," he says.

After that, Brian stops listening at the door and pretending that he isn't.

---

When Brian enters a meeting or presentation, there is a significant degree of respect for the tall, striking brunette. He has that kind of power in his movements. When he enters Babylon, a dozen pairs of eyes turn to lock on him, and he picks the bluest eyes set on the palest skin with the blondest hair and pretends it's Justin. When he enters a casual setting with his friends, all of a sudden, everyone remembers extremely important things they had to discuss with him – Gus, Babylon, Justin, financial issues, Justin, Gus, Justin…

But what the fuck does Brian know about how to enter a high school prom?

When he walks in, the chaperone at the door raises an eyebrow. "Are you here to pick your child up? We could have the DJ call him or her up front…"

Brian ignores her, walking briskly toward the middle of the room. What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

Daphne spots him first, and Brian gives her credit for the way she doesn't jump up and down and swoon and start whispering frantically to Justin about how hot he is. She doesn't have to nudge Justin; the blonde spots Brian perfectly well on his own.

After a brief exchange that proves tedious, Brian takes Justin's hand and leads him onto the dance floor. Justin follows eagerly, like a dog with a more-than-friendly affection for his owner. His eyes never stray from Brian. Later, he will claim that he saw the expressions on the onlookers' faces, but it's a lie. He meets Brian's eyes and does not look away, not once.

They dance, and they kiss, and when they part, Brian wonders for the first time what love means.

He is a hero in Justin's eyes for as much of the night as he will later remember, and also for the part that he will forget.

---

Years later, things are no different.

Justin still follows Brian wherever Brian wants him to go, though sometimes his acquiescence is laced with a "why?" or "fine, but first, you have to…"

Brian pretends that he longs for the days of Justin's easy compliance, but he doesn't, not really. He prefers now to then, now being the era of Justin being a man, whether Brian likes it or not – and he does. There's something off-putting about rolling over in bed and meeting the eyes of a _teenager_, practically a virgin, never having been fucked by anyone besides you. Twenty-odd-year-old Justin may still be twelve years Brian's junior, but it's less obvious now, and less painful.

When Rage began, Justin wasn't really thinking about Brian, as odd as it may seem. Oh, he had the face and body and cock in mind, but he didn't know _Brian_. In his mind, it was the Brian he wanted. Brian harbored all the teeth-clenching, life-affirming morals, but Rage was far, far less firm about them. Fuck, Rage even went and proposed to J.T.

Rage even went and proposed to J.T.

Brian has always said that he isn't Rage, but he can't help but envy a few things about him. Maybe this is why Mikey's such a big fan of superheroes. They give you things to love and hate all at the same time, just like Justin.

In his own mind right now and in Justin's as well, Brian is Rage.

"How about marrying me?" he asks, years of practice in sounding suave serving to cover up the almost-tremble in his voice.

And like Rage but more like Justin than anyone else, Brian persists. He asks not once, not twice, but again a third time, pulling his lover out of New York and back into the world he knows and loves as much as the gold band Brian slipped on his finger one night while he was asleep.


End file.
